


Hunted

by riseuplogan (WonderAvian)



Category: Cyndago - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/riseuplogan
Summary: You're not very good at this, are you?
Kudos: 3





	Hunted

By all accounts, the Author had appeared to be a normal, benevolent spirit, but now that he is moving, his previously aloof personality has changed for the worse. The closer he gets to you, the more he deteriorates, and the more he deteriorates, the more futile your attempts at running away become.

He had started at his desk, writing until he ran out of either ink or paper. You probably should have made note of the dwindling supply, because now you have another problem to deal with. The Author isn’t passive anymore.

The security feed on your phone decides to short out. Once the feed flickers back to life the Author can be seen about to exit the same room, but this time he has a bat in his hands.

Flicking through the different cameras reveals that no matter which route you take the Author is steadily making his way towards you, seemingly always one step ahead. He does not appear at all perturbed by his eyes starting to bleed. He dons a trenchcoat at some point and loses the bat at another.

By the time you have looked away and looked back, he has already reached the end of the hallway. Your view of his eyes has been suddenly and completely obscured. He has reached into the inner pockets of the trenchcoat and found a ragged old cloth to wrap around his face. A patch of hair has been burned a vibrant gold that practically glows in the dull lighting.

You blink and the next thing you know he is standing right outside your door. His posture is almost perfect; arms folded calmly behind him with his head bowed. Staring at him through your phone seems to alert him to your anxious scrutiny, and he slowly raises his head, knowing without seeing that he is being watched.

You hide under a table and hope he can’t find you. You have backed yourself into a corner of your own making and now the two of you have locked gazes through a couple of simple screens.

The Author leers at you, all teeth and no pity. The blood that was previously only a mere trickle has become a steady stream.

The visual feed flickers and fails again. 

The camera eventually reloads only to show the empty corner of an empty hallway. All your hurried scuttling has been for nothing as the Host pulls your phone down with one hand and lifts the cloth back with the other, smile a mile wide and caked in blood.

The Host’s perpetually bleeding eye sockets filling your vision as he closes the last of the gap between the two of you is the last thing you see before everything fades to black.


End file.
